Ugly Is in the Eye of the Beholder

Friday, I parked beside an ugly car at the bank. Ugly is in the eye of the beholder, I suppose. This car was obviously new. A Chevy Camaro, I presume, but Val is not a gearhead. Muscle cars don't appeal to me enough to learn their looks. Anyhoo...this car was bright blue. A color that does not belong on a car. Imagine the color of Pepto Bismol, but blue instead of pink. It was like that. A little research points this shade to being called Riverside Blue, on the 2019 Camaro.

That's not the issue here, though. An ugly car is an ugly car. It's the lady inside that I must discuss. She was sitting in the driver's seat when I parked. A gray-haired lady. Perhaps a retired elementary school cafeteria worker. You notice I didn't say cook. Anyhoo...at first I didn't think much about her or her car. I parked T-Hoe in the middle of the space, not even cheating over, because the car on my left had left plenty of room for my door to open. I went inside the bank and did my business.

When I returned, gray-hair was still sitting in her Camaro, texting, with her window down. Again, I didn't think much about this, though I'd noticed upon walking behind her car that it was parked kind of cattywompus. Still within the lines, but with the nose closer to T-Hoe, and the trunk farther away. At an angle, but still within the lines.

You know how it is when you come out of the bank after doing business. Sometimes there's some housekeeping to do. Sort through a stack of money, perhaps. I was about to do that, when I saw that gray-hair had gotten out of her Camaro. Oh. Okay. I'd wait for her to walk inside. But she didn't! She stood right there at T-Hoe's passenger window. I even looked over, thinking she wanted to talk to me. Nope. She was just standing there, beside her Camaro, by her door handle, with her face right at T-Hoe's passenger window! Not really looking in. Not that I could catch her at, anyway, when I looked over. She had her phone up. Texting. Or pretending to.

I WANTED SO BAD TO CLICK T-HOE'S DOOR LOCKS!

But you know how I am. I didn't want to offend Grandma Nosey, by having her hear those door locks, with her standing right there barely a foot away from T-Hoe. I surreptitiously laid my stack of money on the armrest of T-Hoe's driver door. So my gut and boobage, and the purse on my lap, were between the cash and Grandma Nosey's line of vision. What in the Not-Heaven was she doing? I would have backed out and counted my money in a safer place, like an abandoned parking lot, if I'd thought I could get out of that parking space without pinning Grandma Nosey between T-Hoe and Camaro.

Something tells me Grandma Nosey has done this before. Might even make a habit of it. Because she was wearing one of those neon yellow plastic vests, like cops wear at an accident scene! I still don't know what was going on there. But I do know this: Ugly is definitely in the eyes of the beholder. Because a car parked on the other side of the Camaro, a man got out, and said to Grandma Nosey,

"Nice car."